


Maybe He's Just Not That Into You

by Broadwaylover17



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Adultery, Alternate Universe - He's Just Not That Into You (2009) Fusion, Clueless Molly, Clueless Sherlock, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Heartbreak, Humor, John is a Bit Not Good, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:00:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 19,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24542731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Broadwaylover17/pseuds/Broadwaylover17
Summary: Inspired by the film "He's Just Not That Into You," London-based friends and lovers try to maneuver their way through the intricacies of relationships. Anthea wants commitment from Mycroft, who has no interest in marriage. Molly is tired of waiting for someone to text her back and finds help from Sherlock, a consulting detective who happens to give really good dating advice. Meanwhile, Mary has trust issues with her husband John, who can't trust himself around Eurus. *Earned Third Place in the 2019/2020 SAMFAS M/E Rated Fics in the Best Other AU/UA category*
Relationships: Anthea/Mycroft Holmes, Eurus Holmes/Jim Moriarty, Eurus Holmes/John Watson, Mary Morstan/John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper
Comments: 22
Kudos: 42





	1. The Beginning of our Problem

**Author's Note:**

> Hi lovelies! I recently was watching that film, and I got a plot bunny for this fic. I've had so much fun writing it that I have written five chapters already!  
> Big thank you to mizjoely for being my beta! I really appreciated your help!!
> 
> Hope you enjoy it. Happy reading!

_ Every girl remembers their first love. Even if it does not go as planned… _

Little Molly Hooper, not yet eight years old, was playing with her best friend Meena, only a year older, on the playground. Both of their mothers were preoccupied in an adult conversation. Most likely discussing their marriages or the state of the economy. Matters that didn’t concern the children.

The two girls decide to play doctor. Molly was the doctor and Meena was the patient. “Okay, Mrs. Summers! Everything looks good. Blood pressure rate: excellent! Ears and nose? Looking good! But Mrs. Summers, why are there monkeys in your ears?”

Molly’s friend let out a giggle, and replied, “I’m not sure, Dr. Hooper! There were no monkeys in my ears last time I checked!”

As the girls were enjoying their playtime, a boy from their class, Peter Michaels, noticed them from across the playground. This particular boy happened to be Molly Hooper’s crush. She would doodle his name in her notebook, and she occasionally daydreamed about him during instruction. This boy did not pay much attention to Molly. In fact, they barely spoke to one another, but that did not stop Molly from fantasizing about him.

Peter had been enjoying some time on the swing set. He was testing to see how high he could swing. It was Molly Hooper’s laughter that caught his attention and motivated him to intrude on her playtime. The boy crossed the playground to where Molly and Meena were sitting. Molly could see Peter coming towards them, and she blushed faintly at the sight of him.

“Meena!” she whispered. “It’s him. It’s Peter from our class! Do you think he wants to talk to us?”

Meena stifled a giggle, “Molly! It’s so obvious that he wants to talk to you.” That statement made Molly’s cheeks turn from pink to bright red. Peter finally approached the two. Molly’s cheeks were burning, and her heart was pounding. She bravely smiled and said, “Hi there, Peter! How are you? Do you want to come and play with us?”

The boy’s intentions were made known with his reply. “Why would I want to do that?! I came over here to tell you that I think your laugh is stupid. And...and you smell like dog poo!!”

Molly’s burning cheeks now felt tears trickling down. She was utterly humiliated by the harsh insults from a boy that she really liked. The pain hurt so much. She couldn’t stand to look at him anymore, so she retreated to the safety of her mother who was still sitting on a park bench close by, talking with Meena’s mother.

_ When first loves go awry, a girl seeks out comfort and good advice... _

“Mum! Mummy!” she cried with arms stretched out, begging for a comforting hug. “Mum, Peter was so mean to me just now.” Her mother gently wrapped her arms around Molly, pulling her into a warm, motherly cuddle. Molly sobbed uncontrollably into her mother’s shoulder. 

“Hush now, darling girl. Shhh,” her mum said softly. She rocked her daughter gently in an effort to calm her nerves. “Now, I need you to take five deep breaths for me, and then tell me what happened.” Dr. Laura Hooper, a prominent child psychologist, always knew the best way to get her daughter to relax. 

Molly heeded her mother’s advice. Five deep breaths was all it took. In...out. In...and out. Inhale and exhale. Inhalation and exhalation. And one last breath in and out. Molly’s trembling body soon stilled in her mother’s arms. She pulled away slightly to look at her mother and retell the horrific ordeal with Peter.

“Dog Poo, Mummy! That’s what he called me, and he said that my laugh was stupid.” She sniffled as she spoke.

“Oh my little Molly, do you know why he said those nasty things to you?” Molly shook her head. “It’s because he likes you!”

Confusion took over the tiny girl.  _ He...likes me?  _ she thought. _ But he said such horrible things! _

  
  


_ And there it is, ladies! That’s the beginning of our problem. We have been encouraged...no,  _ **_programmed_ ** _ into believing that if a guy acts like a total jerk that means he likes you.  _

_ This is a story about miscommunication. A story about beginnings and endings. A story about follies and foibles, and how two very different people found...can you guess what it is… _

__

_ Love. _


	2. Miscommunication Galore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly thinks her date went well with Jim.
> 
> Jim wants Eurus, and Sherlock tells him not to come off desperate. 
> 
> And Eurus wants someone else...

“So, Mary tells me that you’re an actor.” Molly nervously fumbled with her food as she encouraged her date to continue conversing. He was a moderately handsome man. Not too tall, but not extremely short. Engaging brown eyes and a charming smile. She figured that he might be a good match for her. 

“Yeah, I’ve gotten some gigs here and there. For the majority of my work, I’ve been a storyteller for children’s programming.”

“Aww! That’s adorable!”

Molly’s date was clearly displeased with her response. Most men do not like the word  _ adorable  _ associated with describing them. This man was no exception.

“Oh, Jim. I’m...I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that about you. Just that the show sounds adorable. I mean...I think you’re handsome and smart and ambitious. All of that is very attractive to a woman.” Molly’s palms began to sweat as she felt the date going south.

“Nah, it’s alright, Molly,” said Jim with a smile. “You’re right. Children’s programming is supposed to be  _ adorable. _ ” His smile opened, letting a small laugh escape his lips. Molly glanced at his mouth, observing his dimples that surfaced at the corners of his mouth when he smiled. She considered what it might be like to kiss those lips…

“Excuse me. Sorry to interrupt, but would you two like another round?” The waitress stopped Molly’s thoughts abruptly as she turned to see if Jim wanted another round of drinks.

“Do you want another pint?” he asked.

“Oh! Well, only if you want to, I mean...I’m fine either way.” She was deliberate in her response. Testing the waters. 

_ If Jim agrees to another round, then he obviously likes me well enough to stay longer,  _ Molly thought.  _ If he turns down the offer, I will know that it’s not meant to be. _

“Umm…” Jim glanced at Molly as he considered his answer. His charming smile appeared once more. “Yeah...why not. Another round of beers, please.”

Molly released her breath.  _ Yes! Maybe this could lead somewhere,  _ she thought.

* * *

  
  


“I had a great time tonight,” said Molly shyly. 

“It was really nice meeting you,” replied Jim, placing a kiss on her cheek.

The two turned and went their separate ways. In the midst of doing so, both took out their phones, eagerly making a phone call.

“Hi, Mary! He’s cute ...Yeah, I think it went well, and I think Jim might be calling me back sooner than you’d think!” Molly optimistically continued her walk back to her apartment. She couldn’t wait for another date.

“Hi, it’s me. I’ve been thinking about you all night. I really want to see you again... Come on, Eurus. Don’t play games with me...I’ll be waiting.” Jim hung up the phone and hailed a taxi. He was really looking forward to hearing from Eurus again.

* * *

Eurus slipped her phone back into her handbag as she continued grocery shopping. “I wonder when Jim is going to give up,” she whispered to herself.

In her basket, she placed a bag of trail mix, a bunch of bananas, and a head of broccoli. She had recently read something about clean eating, so her natural curiosity encouraged her to give the diet a try. 

Down the aisle towards checkout, there was a man waiting for his turn to pay. All that he carried was a six-pack of beer. Eurus took no notice of him at first. That is until he got her attention.

“Excuse me. Would you like to cut in front of me?”

“Oh, well I have more items than you do, so it’s fine. You don’t have to do that.”

“Well, I actually have six items and you only have...three, so I think that does count.”

An amused smile formed on Eurus’s face as she got a closer look at the stranger. He was not that tall, but he had such nice eyes…

“Well, thank you.” She accepted his offer and crossed in front of him. While the cashier was scanning her items, the stranger occasionally looked back at Eurus. An action that she failed to notice. 

A loud blaring noise sounded when Eurus slid her card to complete the transaction. The cashier checked his computer to see what the problem was. “Yikes! I’m sorry, miss, but it looks like the card has been declined.” 

“What? That can’t be. I checked my statements last week. My check should have cleared.”

“I’m very sorry, miss. But as you can see-”

“Here,” the stranger interrupted. “Allow me.” He gave his credit card to the cashier.

“Oh, no.” Eurus was slightly embarrassed by the gesture. “That’s really not necessary.”

“Please...I insist.” The man gave Eurus a soft smile, and that was enough to persuade her to let him pay.

“Thank you. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem. Didn’t break the bank, did it?” He winked at her, causing her to blush slightly.

_ What an interesting man with such nice eyes… _

* * *

Sherlock Holmes was keeping himself busy in his flat, 221B Baker Street, in his typical way. Experiments. 

He was in the process of torching a human eye as his mobile rang.

_ Jim Moriarty  _

“Oh for God’s sake,” muttered Sherlock under his breath as he begrudgingly answered the call. “Yes, Moriarty. What is it? I am very busy. Are you going to try to challenge me again? Or are you going to boast about the young lady that you corrupted this evening? Either way, I am not in the mood.”

“Nah, come on Sherlock! I thought we were past our rivalry,” teased Jim. “Well, if you must know, the date was okay, but she was far too boring for me...But, that’s not why I called.”

“Oh,  _ very nice,”  _ retorted Sherlock. “Okay, so what is it then? Come on! Quickly.”

“It’s about your sister. Have you heard from her lately?”

“Eurus?...No, not recently...Are you two having a sex holiday again?”

“No, not in a while. I called her about an hour ago. She said she’d ‘call me right back.’”

“Hmm,” expressed Sherlock.

“I think I’ll give her a call back.”

“What? No! Don’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because Moriarty, do you wish to come off desperate to my sister?”

“That’s rich coming from a man who has limited dating experience.”

“I don’t need to have extensive experience in order to identify desperation!”

Jim huffed in annoyance. “Very well...I won’t call her tonight.”

“Good.”

“Fine.” Jim promptly ended the phone call in order to start another one. He was searching for Eurus’s name in his contacts.

* * *

An obnoxious ring reverberated from Eurus’s mobile, interrupting her engaging conversation with the fine-looking stranger she had met in the shop. One glance at the name, Jim, on her caller ID, and she chose to silence her phone. “I’m so sorry about that...what was I saying?”

The man reminded her, “You want to stop feeling like you are lost in the sky while everyone else is asleep. You are trying to find your place in the world.”

“Gosh! Is that what I was saying? A bit heavy for a chat with a man I just met.” Eurus let out a nervous giggle. She was quite embarrassed about revealing so much about herself to a complete stranger. It was unlike her. Every action Eurus made was calculating and precise. Her choices always had a purpose, but this was the first instance where that was not the case.

“It’s okay! Really. I liked listening to you. You are a fascinating woman.”

Eurus tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Really? You think so?”

“Definitely,” the man replied. His eyes lingered on her. Eyes that sang out with admiration and desire. “I...I’m married.”

Eurus’s forehead creased as she raised her eyebrows. “Oh…”

“I don’t normally do this. This is not normal for me, but...I like you. I really, really like you.”

Eurus felt a tightness in her chest after hearing his confession. For a brief moment, guilt consumed her when she thought about his wife and how she would feel if she found out what he was up to. Then, she released that sense of guilt from her body with an exhalation. Eurus was a determined woman. At that moment, Eurus wanted him. “We’re just talking. A married man can talk to a woman, can’t he?”

“Well, it’s difficult to only just talk with a bright, beautiful professional violinist. I wish I could do more than that with such a woman.” 

Eurus smiled back, “Well, then. Why don’t we start with just texting? Anyone can do that. Text someone. There’s no crime in that.”

The man’s gaze moved to the right as he considered her statement. “No. There is no crime against that.” He unlocked his mobile, opened his contacts app, and handed it to her.

She gladly reciprocated by giving him her phone.

“Dr. John Watson.” The new name in her contacts. “It’s got a nice ring to it.”

“And you’re…” John Watson looked down at his mobile. His smile faded. “You’re Eurus Holmes? You’re Sherlock’s sister?!”

“Yes...How-how do you know that, and why does it matter?”

“He’s my best friend!”

“Wait, you are...Dr. John Hamish Watson? My brother’s blogger!” Eurus was stunned by this sudden turn of events. “But that shouldn’t matter, right? Your best friend is my brother, and now you are friends with me.” 

John chuckled, “Yes, I suppose so.” Even with that new information, he still couldn’t keep his eyes off of her. “I look forward to seeing you again...Eurus Holmes.”

“Same here….John Watson.”


	3. Why Can't We Get Married?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft and Anthea discuss an important step in their relationship, and Mary helps Molly with her dating life.

Mycroft Holmes, the eldest of the Holmes children, was used to a solitary existence. That is until he met Anthea. She changed his whole perspective on relationships, especially with women. He had grown attached to his most trusted assistant, and that attachment grew into something deeper.

As the relationship developed, Mycroft carefully guarded each decision he made. When the time came for Anthea to suggest that they should move in together, Mycroft made sure that his intentions were perfectly clear…

_ “Anthea, you must understand that it has taken me a considerable amount of time to be in any sort of...relationship.” _

_ “Yes, I know,” she replied. _

_ “So I need to make something abundantly clear to you. I am not a marrying man. I have never intended to be married nor do I have any desire to do so.” _

_ Anthea’s mouth dropped into a frown, and her gaze fell to the floor. “Oh...right...of course. I knew that.” _

_ Mycroft inhaled softly, “But you see….I care about you. Most ardently. And...I wish to continue our relationship if you’ll have me.” He smiled sadly at her, hoping she would agree to his terms. _

_ “Mycroft, you’ve been...the perfect gentleman. You and I have something that I don’t want to lose. So...if not marrying keeps us together, then so be it.” She sealed their agreement with a tender kiss on his lips. _

That agreement was made almost seven years ago, and Mycroft and Anthea were both very happy. Living together was one of the best decisions they ever made as a couple. But in Anthea’s heart, something felt hollow like when you are about to complete a five hundred piece puzzle and the last piece is missing.

That empty feeling sank to the bottom of her stomach after receiving a call from Ginny, her younger sister. “Oh, that’s...that’s wonderful, Ginny. I’m...I’m so happy for you. I really am. Well, I’m looking forward to helping you plan everything...Yeah, I’ll talk to you soon. Love you. Bye.”

Mycroft was in the kitchen preparing tea while Anthea was on the phone. “Who was that, dearest?” He raised his voice so she could hear.

Anthea called out in a similar manner. “That was my baby sister, Ginny. She’s getting married.”

Mycroft grabbed two cups and headed for the sitting room. “Really?” he answered. “That’s...that’s wonderful news. Good for them.”

“Wonderful news? Good for them?” Mycroft handed her a cuppa as she spoke. “So, it’s wonderful that Ginny is getting married to Darren, but don’t you think that we’re going against nature or something along those lines because we are not married?”

Mycroft pinched the bridge of his nose as he replied, “Anthea, we’ve discussed this previously. You are well aware of my sentiments on the matter. I don’t think we need to discuss this further.”

“Well, I think we do!” she retorted. 

“Consider this. Why is it necessary to make a grand spectacle over such an occasion? Do you pay for a friendship license to declare that you are friends with Mary or Molly?”

“No.”

“So why should our relationship be treated differently?” Anthea continued to look at the floor. “We are happy, aren’t we?” She nodded. “So then, there’s no need for a change.”

He gave her a peck on the cheek before returning to the kitchen for more tea.

Anthea began to stroke her left hand’s ring finger and thought to herself,  _ yes, my love. I am very happy...but I want more... _

* * *

There were boxes stacked high and walls unfinished. The bare bones of a house that was being remodeled. Molly was constantly checking her text messages and her voicemail box as Mary Watson hung up a mirror and then sorted through a dresser. “Maybe he’s out of town, Molly. Perhaps for an acting gig.”

Molly snorted, “That’s doubtful. He’s got a regular paying gig for a children’s program on a local channel.”

Her friend conceded, “Okay, you may be right...But, think about this. After I went on my first date with John, it took him eleven days to get back to me. Eleven! And now he’s the most perfect husband anyone could ask for. That kind of thing happens all time, love.”

“Really?”

“Really!”

The pair moved downstairs into the kitchen. “Fancy a cuppa?” asked Mary. 

“Sure!” Molly unlocked her mobile once more, hopeful that she’d see a message from Jim. “This is all your fault,” she said with a teasing smile.

“How is it my fault?”

“You set us up!”

“Please, Molly. I met him under interesting circumstances with John and his best friend. I thought you two would hit it off. That’s all. Don’t think too much into it.”

“Okay, yeah. You’re right...He said he sometimes visits his friend at St. Bart’s. Maybe, while I’m at work, I can figure out who his friend is and-”

“Molly, don’t! He’ll text you.”

_ And if he doesn’t text you back...he’s probably not interested. Unfortunately for our heroine, she does not want to give up hope. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos! Hope you all are liking it so far!


	4. Sherlock Holmes, the dating expert

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A murder case becomes the catalyst for Sherlock and Molly to meet...

“John!” Sherlock Holmes bellowed as his friend settled in his chair.

“What? Sherlock? What is it?”

“A case!”

“A good one?”

“Oh, the best! This is at least a seven!” Sherlock started to make his way to his bedroom. “I’m going to get my coat. Are you coming?”

“Nope, sorry mate. Gotta pass.”

Sherlock backed up a few paced to make eye contact with his friend. “What? Why?”

“I have obligations. Husband obligations.” He arched his brows, hoping that Sherlock caught on.

“Ah...I see...Well, that’s unfortunate. Perhaps next time. Laters!” And Sherlock was off!

He hailed a cab. “St. Bart’s Hospital.”

Upon his arrival at the morgue, he found a petite woman. Her brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and she was elbow deep into the chest cavity of the victim of his “seven.”

Sherlock walked over to the slab. “Excuse me,” stated the woman. “How did you get in here? Do you work here?”

He narrowed his eyes as he looked at her. “No, thank God for that. The name’s Sherlock Holmes, and I am a consulting detective for Scotland Yard. And you are?”

“Dr. Molly Hooper, specialist registrar.” Molly offered her hand to greet him. Sherlock’s eyebrow raised as he stared at her hand. It took Molly a moment to realize that her gloved hand was covered in blood and viscera. “Oh gosh! That’s embarrassing! Sorry about that.” She let out a self-deprecating laugh as she continued her autopsy. “So, Sherlock, I’m guessing you’re here for this poor guy.”

“Hm, yes. Quite an intriguing case. Is there anything of interest that you discovered?”

“Well, I’m not finished yet, but once I do I can let you know!”

“Very well.” Sherlock turned to head for the exit.

“Wait! Hold on, Sherlock!” Molly removed her gloves and stepped closer to him. “I know this is a silly question, but it can’t hurt to ask. Do you know anyone by the name Jim Moriarty?”

His eyes widened, “How do you know Jim?”

“So you do know him! Well, I went on a date with him last week, and-”

“Forget about him. He’s not interested.”

His bluntness rendered Molly speechless for a beat. “But, the date went pretty well-”

“Did he text you? After the date, did he text you?”

“No,” she admitted shyly.

“Then, he’s not interested. Take this piece of advice because it will save you a lot of trouble. If a man doesn’t text you, he’s not interested. That’s the rule. If he’s interested, he’ll let you know. He’ll make it  _ very _ clear.”

“Then how do you explain my friend Mary? Her now-husband took eleven days to get back to her after their first date. That doesn’t follow the rule!”

Sherlock scrunched his face, “There can be exceptions. Rare exceptions. However, the majority of scenarios follow the rule!”

Molly pouted in defiance. She didn’t want to believe that he was right. “But what if I’m the exception?”

“No, you’re not. You’re the rule,” replied Sherlock flatly. “In the interest of being abundantly clear, if a man doesn’t call you, he doesn’t  _ want _ to call you.”

“Really!” Molly was flabbergasted by his audacity.

“Really. I’ve dismissed women on countless occasions. Trust me if men treat you like they don’t give a shit, they genuinely don’t give a shit. No exceptions.”

Molly nodded, “Thank you. You’ve given me a lot to think about. Now, I need to get back to work.”

Sherlock observed her as she removed the victim’s bowels. He noted the precision of her knife and the skillful way she organized each vital organ. It was almost beautiful for him to watch. “You seem like a... competent pathologist. A _ rarity _ here apparently. Perhaps, you can be of some use to me. Here, have this.” He offered her his business card. 

_ Mr. Sherlock Holmes _

_ Consulting Detective _

_ 221B Baker Street _

_ London _

_ Fate works in mysterious ways. For Molly, coincidences were occurring on a frequent basis. On that day in the morgue, Molly Hooper realized that the man she just met was the very same man who was best friends with John Watson, the husband of her friend Mary, AND he was the younger brother of her friend Anthea’s long term boyfriend, Mycroft. It was baffling to her, considering how long she had known the two women, that she did not meet this gentleman until that very day. Moreover, she could not begin to imagine the significant role that Sherlock Holmes would soon play in her life...  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> Stay tuned for the next chapter! :)


	5. We Are the Rule, not the Exception

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly suffers from foot in mouth syndrome when she plants a seed of doubt in her friend.  
> Eurus embarrasses herself at work, unable to get John Watson out of her head.

Mary and Anthea were chatting in the living room while Molly was working on their luncheon. As she was fixing up some sandwiches and tea for her friends, she regaled them with what she learned about men and relationships.

“...And so that’s why if a man is acting like a complete arse, it means he’s not interested. Women everywhere are thinking that they are the exception. But the reality is that we are the rule!”

Both ladies were taking a beat to process Molly’s lengthy tangent. “So,” started Anthea. “What you’re saying is: if I heard a story about a girl who married a chap after dating him for thirteen years, that’s the exception.”

“Yes!” she replied breathlessly.

“But the rule is if guys, like Mycroft, who are with girls, like me, for seven years and are not married, they are  _ never  _ getting married?” Worry seeped into Anthea’s eyes, and her face tightened with sadness. 

“No!” both Mary and Molly stated quickly. Molly did not mean that at all. She never wanted to suggest such a thing about Anthea and Mycroft’s relationship. “I wasn’t talking about you!” Molly added as she saw tears welling up in her friend’s eyes. “I was talking about specific relationships like mine. You have nothing to worry about Anthea.”

“Yes, love! You and Mycroft are perfect together! You know it’s true!” said Mary.

Anthea smiled gratefully from her friends’ well-intentioned words. But the notion of stagnation in her relationship made her crumble inside, and she felt dread drop into her stomach like a stone.

  
  


* * *

In the midst of her orchestra rehearsal, Eurus was constantly thinking about John Watson. His lovely blue eyes. His charming smile. The way he spoke. How he walked. She couldn’t get him out of her head.

“Eurus!” shouted her conductor.

She snapped out of her daydream, “Yes! Yes, maestro?”

“You were late on the entrance to your solo in measure 51!” Bartok’s Violin Concerto No. 2 was a very demanding piece of music, and Eurus was more than capable of performing it. She was thoroughly embarrassed for her mistake. Missing a cue was an amateur flub, and she feared that she would be fired. 

“You’re right, maestro. It won’t happen again.” As a professional musician, she had to own up to her mistakes and give no excuses. Excuses were meaningless to the conductor of the London Symphony Orchestra.

“No, it won’t,” he confirmed. “Let’s go to rehearsal 43, ladies and gents, and let’s see if Eurus Holmes can focus on the task at hand.”

Her face flushed from the man’s insult, but she took it in stride. Her back straight, her violin parallel to the ground, and her arms and shoulders relaxed to encourage fluid movement as she played. 

Following the humiliating scene, Eurus was relieved to see that the rest of the rehearsal went off without a hitch. She gently placed her Stradivarius back in its case and hailed a cab. During her ride back to her flat, her thoughts went back to John Watson.

_ What if you meet the love of your life, but you already married someone else,  _ she contemplated to herself.  _ Are you supposed to let them pass you by? _

“I’m going to text him,” she whispered to herself. She handed what she owed to the cabbie as she leaped out of her seat and bolted for her front door while searching for his name in her contact. 

She tossed her keys onto her coffee table as she speedily typed out her first message.

_ Hey, John. It’s Eurus Holmes- EH _

She felt her mobile vibrate in her hands, signaling his response.

_ Hey, Eurus! How are you?- JW _

_ I’m well. I was wondering. Do you like classical music?- EH _

_ I don’t have the best ear, but I can appreciate the artistry- JW _

_ The London Symphony Orchestra is performing a Bartok set for charity, and I have a solo- EH _

_ That’s wonderful!- JW _

Eurus hesitated before typing her next response.

_ Would you like to come and see it? I can get you good seats.- EH _

A minute passed and there was no reply. Eurus put the phone down and opened up a bottle of wine.

Vibration emanated from the phone, slightly moving with each buzz. She quickly picked it up to see his messages.

_ Look...I think you are great _

_ But, I can’t do this _

_ Not now _

_ Take care- JW _

“Well...sod this.”

A taxi ride. A knock at the door. And she was back in the arms of Jim Moriarty. Her lips pressing violently into his. Her hips around his waist. She felt his cock stir as they kissed. She tore off his shirt, and he unclipped her bra. Her body slammed onto the bed as their bodies became one in an animalistic, primal manner.

Once she had come, Eurus sighed in ecstasy. Jim was always a dependable lover. When she felt lonely, she knew he would take her with open arms. While laying in his bed, her thoughts wandered, and, in that wandering, she thought of John Watson again. 

Jim tenderly kissed her and rested his head on her chest. “I knew you’d be back,” he said smiling.

Eurus stroked his hair, “I can’t stay the night.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah...I’m sorry. But I did have a great time.”

“Okay, I’ll see you again soon?”

“Definitely” She kissed his forehead and started to pick up her clothes.

“So, you’re sure you can’t stay tonight.”

“Yes, I need the whole day tomorrow to practice.” She gave him a reassuring smile as she swaggered to the door. “Good night Jim,” she whispered in a sultry voice.

“Night,” he whispered back as the door shut.

Moriarty exhaled loudly, his head falling onto his pillow. He chuckled, “That bitch is as crazy as I am.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos!  
> Feedback is always appreciated ^.^  
> Stay tuned for the next chapter!


	6. Anthea's Limits and Mary's Wishes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anthea and Mycroft's relationship comes to a head, and Mary begins to doubt her husband.

Upon entering the flat, Anthea found Mycroft fumbling around the kitchen. He wore a black apron around his waist, and there was a smudge of flour on his cheek. Messy bowls were in the kitchen sink, and the smell of chocolate wafted through the air. If it had been any other day, Anthea would have smiled at the sight of her boyfriend in such a state of domesticity. But that was not to be.

She had just gotten back from her luncheon with Molly and Mary, and her mood had not improved since their conversation regarding love and relationships.

_ “But the rule is if guys, like Mycroft, who are with girls, like me, for seven years and are not married, they are never getting married?”  _

That memory soured her as the day progressed. So much so, that she didn’t want anything to go well. Her mind then returned to the present as she glared at Mycroft. “What are you doing?”

“Baking a cake,” he said as he licked some residual batter from his fingers.

“Why?” interrogated Anthea with an agitated tone.

Mycroft was confused by her behavior. “Because it’s our anniversary. I thought you liked chocolate cake.”

“I do like chocolate cake, but just stop!” she snapped.

“Is it because you don’t trust me in the kitchen? I know I am still improving my domestic skills, but I think that I am more than capable of baking a decent cake.”

“No. I just want you to stop doing anything nice.”

Mycroft’s forehead creased with the raise of his brow. He was completely perplexed. Within the seven years of their relationship, Mycroft had developed an understanding of most of Anthea’s idiosyncrasies. He knew how she liked her tea and which side of the bed she preferred. He knew her habitual ritual of applying her makeup every morning. And, he knew very well that she liked chocolate cake, so he could not fathom why she was so upset. “Anthea, I’m not sure that I understand.”

“I..need you to stop...being nice to me unless you agree to marry me,” she confessed.

Mycroft responded with a small uncomfortable laugh.

“Oh! So this is funny? You think this is funny?!” Her frustration was swelling up into rage.

“No, Anthea. I don’t think this is funny.”

“You can’t carry on with all of this nice..helpful...domestic stuff, and I can’t keep pretending that our relationship is something that it’s not.” Tears welled up in her eyes as she spoke. “We’ve been together for seven glorious years. You know me better than anyone. You know who I am. You either want to marry me, or you don’t.” Her last few words cracked in her throat as her emotions became overwhelming.

Mycroft sighed. “Or perhaps, my dear, I’m telling the truth that I don’t believe in marriage.”

“Bollocks! That’s complete and utter horseshit, Mycroft. And you know it!” Fury took hold of Anthea, and tears ran down her cheeks. She was so tired of the status quo. She desperately wanted her relationship to evolve, hoping that he would change his mind.

“Might I inquire as to where this is coming from, Anthea?”

“It’s coming from a place that I’ve been hiding from you since the moment you agreed to move in with me. Since then, I’ve done my best to not seem demanding or overbearing, so I’ve held my tongue Mycroft. For you. I never asked you. But...I have to. For my sanity, I must ask you...Are-are you  _ ever _ going to marry me?”

Mycroft’s eyes were fixed on Anthea. His pulse elevated and his breath became labored. That was the question that terrified him to his core. He considered marriage to be an archaic tradition. After committing himself to Anthea, he believed that’s all that was necessary to maintain a happy relationship. 

He was wrong, and he did not know how to respond to the question.

Anthea waited for his reply. She searched his eyes for his answer, but she could see nothing. Nothing in his eyes gave her any hope that he would consent to marry her.

His continued silence provided Anthea with his answer. She nodded slightly and whispered, “I can’t do this anymore.”

Fighting back more tears she fled to the bedroom and shut the door.

Mycroft remained fixed to that one spot. He bowed his head and released a heavy sigh.

* * *

John Watson sat on the floor of an unfinished room. Renovating the flat had become an arduous project. Each day, there was more work to be done. Tables that needed to be sanded. Walls that needed to be painted. Despite having assistance from manual laborers, the reno demanded John’s undivided attention, so he could approve the various decisions that must be made.

He was scrolling on his phone as he sat. His thoughts began to wander. They wandered back to Eurus, the woman he met one day at a shop. The woman who happened to be his best friend’s sister. The woman he could not stop thinking about. The woman who was not his wife.

To go against all moral behavior, John let his emotions get the better of him. He tapped on her name from his contact list and pressed his mobile to his ear.

No answer.

_ Hi, this is Eurus Holmes. Obviously, I can’t come to the phone right now, so please leave a message, and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.  _

A beep sounded.

“Hi Eurus! It’s John...John Watson. The man you met at the shop...Look, I know it’s been a while since you texted, and I’m really sorry about how that went. It just took me by surprise...Anyways...I was wondering if I could still take you up on that offer? I mean, it’s perfectly normal for someone to appreciate music and support a friend, right?... So, yeah...let me know when you get the chance. Bye!”

John looked behind him nervously after hearing his wife call out ‘Hi love!’ after he hung up. His heart rate increased and his palms started to sweat. “Oh, Jeesus.”

“What?” she asked sweetly.

“You scared me.”

Mary let out a giggle and lightly kissed his lips. “You okay?”

“Yeah!” he said smiling. “Everything’s fine.”

“Good!...Have you been drinking again?” Mary remembered how hard it was for John to cope with the trauma of war. After spending countless nights in Afghanistan watching good men die right before his eyes and after getting shot in the shoulder, adjusting to civilian life was difficult for him. The drink was his one and only vice. Being inebriated gave him a temporary fix to his nightmares, but it also dulled his senses and unleashed a dark side of himself. Mary knew that it was unhealthy for him to carry on that way, so she encouraged him to seek therapy and rehabilitation. For two exhausting years, she stayed by his side. Nursing him when he relapsed and comforting him when he cried. Their bond deepened during that joyless period, and after he left rehab, he finally proposed to her.

Despite his shortcomings, John Watson truly did love his wife. He was a flawed man, and, unfortunately, his flaws were starting to overpower his good nature. He shook his head and said, “No, Mary! You know I quit. I swore I would never take another drink when I proposed to you. Remember?” He kissed her gently on the forehead.

“I remember,” recalled Mary. “It’s just that you look a bit blue, and I remember that’s how you used to look when you drank.”

“No, I promise. I'm just sitting here trying to picture what this room will look like when it’s finished.”

“Oh! That sounds like a fun game.” Mary teased. She scooted closer to him, and he stretched an arm around her shoulder. “What color were you thinking for the walls?”

“Hmm… yeah, I wasn’t sure about that.”

“I was thinking maybe...yellow. It’s a neutral color, so it could be anything we want. An office or a guest room. A gym or….a nursery.”

John did a double-take and chuckled, “Neutral? Or gender-neutral?” He beamed at her with a bright smile.

“I don’t know  _ what  _ you’re talking about,” joked Mary with a cheeky grin. 

“Oh,  _ sure you don’t… _ ” John tenderly rubbed her shoulder. “I think we’re...really close to talking about it. The possibility of...you know..having one. Yeah?”

She agreed. “Yeah.” 

John leaned in and planted a soft kiss on her lips. Mary reciprocated and deepened the kiss, her lips pressing harder. She opened her mouth, inviting his tongue to enter. His hand cupped her breast as she started to unbutton his shirt. Their lips parted, and John gave his head a nod toward the bedroom...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos! I'd love to hear what you all think of the story in the comments!  
> Thank you mizjoely for your beta reading! I appreciate it so much!


	7. Drinks and Bridesmaid Dresses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly and Mary have a girl's night out, and Anthea's sister expresses her concerns for her.

The music was blaring as Molly was trying to have a conversation with her friend. Mary took an enormous swig of her beer. “It was glorious, Molly! God, the things that man can do with his tongue-”

“Okay, Mary! I get it.” Molly was beginning to turn bright pink as Mary attempted to share her and her husband’s sex escapades. Considering the lack of action she was getting, Molly was not in the mood to hear about someone else’s sex life.

“Sorry about that!” Mary took a sip of her drink. “I guess I overshared a bit, didn’t I?”

“Just a bit,” asserted Molly. She was glancing at the business card she held in her hands.

“Who’s that from?” Mary inquired.

“Oh Mary, you’re not going to believe this. I met Sherlock!”

“My John’s best friend, Sherlock?!”

“Yeah!”

“Wow! So what did you think of him?”

Molly pursed her lips as she thought back to the day at the morgue. “A bit too blunt and rude honestly, but…”

Mary’s anticipation was killing her, “But??”

“But he’s fit,” she admitted with a blush. “And he was right! If a guy wants me, he’ll text. No games, no horsing around. If he wants me, he’ll let me know.”

Mary’s eyes widened, “Wow. Ssssso, he g-got ttto you, didn’t hhe?” She slurred her speech as the alcohol finally started to affect her system. 

Molly nodded and smiled, “Yeah...I guess he did.”

* * *

Anthea did her best to remain perfectly still as the seamstress marked where the hems would be made on the bridesmaid gown. A needle lightly jabbed Anthea’s leg. “Ow!”

The seamstress apologized. “Oh! Sorry, love. I’ll be more careful.” 

“It’s quite alright,” replied Anthea as she turned her attention to her sister Ginny, who was sipping champagne as she watched Anthea’s fitting. “So tell me again, why are you getting married so soon?”

“Because I have no intention of having my wedding during the winter and I am not going to wait till spring.”

Anthea suppressed a laugh from Ginny’s absurd answer. “Come on, Ginny! Are you pregnant?” she teased.

“No!” she exclaimed. “Definitely not!! We’re in love. That’s what people do when they are in love. They get married.” Ginny took a sip of her bubbly. Anthea’s happy expression started to fade, and her sister soon noticed it and acted quickly. “But! You know...not everyone gets married, and you know...there’s nothing wrong with that.” Anthea reached over to take a sip of Ginny’s champagne. “Thea, it’s okay that you broke up with Mycroft. You didn’t do anything wrong! It was the right decision.”

“Right,” replied Anthea flatly.

“Thea, I just want you to be happy.” Ginny and Anthea shared a moment of silence. The conversation made both of them feel uncomfortable.

“Well, if you wanted me to be happy, you  _ should have _ rethought the faded salmon color,” jested Anthea as she looked at her reflection in the mirror, hinting at the hideous shade of pink that was chosen for the bridesmaid dresses.

The sisters burst out laughing. Anthea was hysterical, and Ginny was slightly embarrassed. “You’re not gonna let this go, are you?” asked Ginny.

“Nope!” Another laugh escaped her lips. “But seriously Ginny, I want you to stop worrying about me. I’ve broken up with guys in the past, and I’m very good at moving on. I’m fine...Really!” Her attempts at convincing her sister were fruitless, however. Ginny saw through Anthea’s happy facade, and it worried her very much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! More kudos and the story got its first comment!  
> Thank you! Stayed tuned for more!


	8. John Makes a Big Mistake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Like the title suggests, John gets into deep doo doo...

John Watson was going to a concert. He had never been to one, so he was excited to experience something new. His excitement was not only for the music but also for the Symphony’s first chair violinist. The finest violinist of her generation, Eurus Holmes.

He entered Barbican Hall with hundreds of other patrons that came to see the London Symphony perform Bartok. To be honest, he had no interest in the composer, but Eurus piqued his curiosity and so he came anyway. As he took his seat, he noted where he sat, the middle orchestra section. It is also known as one of the best spots in the concert hall. The listener was close enough to see all the musicians on stage but not too close to be overwhelmed by thunderous crescendos that echoed into the audience. It was a perfect seat, and Eurus had picked it just for him. That thought made him smile. 

An elderly woman who was sitting next to him tapped him on the shoulder. “Excuse me, so sorry, but you look so familiar. Where could I have seen you before?”

John smiled kindly, “Perhaps a newspaper. I investigate crimes with Sherlock Holmes.”

“Oh yes!” beamed the woman. “The former bachelor now married man! Lovely to meet you!” She glanced over to the seat next to him. “Where is your wife?”

John’s eyes widened. “Oh! She’s...out with friends. Girls night out.”

“Ah, I see...such a shame. She’s missing a magnificent performance. That Eurus Holmes is such a remarkable musician, don’t you think?”

He nodded. “Yes...she certainly is...remarkable.”

The house lights slowly darkened, indicating to the audience that the performance was about to begin. The orchestra members were already seated in their chairs, except for one, Eurus. The stage lights came on, bathing it in a warm golden haze. A thunderous roar of applause occurred as Eurus made her entrance onto the stage. She made her way to her chair and bowed before the audience. Then, she turned to face her fellow musicians, ready with her violin and bow. An ‘A’ was played across her instrument and the others soon followed, tuning their strings to ensure proper intonation.

Sir Simon Rattle entered next to an uproarious welcome by his patrons. He took his place center stage and accepted the welcome with a bow. With his back now facing the house, Rattle motioned for the ensemble to raise their instruments in their ready position. Throughout all of this, John was impressed by their precision. The ensemble moved together as if they were one person. 

A preparatory beat was given and the work began. Strike after strike of bow against strings. Up and down. Down, up, down. Quick bowing and slow bowing. The hand supporting the neck moving back and forth rapidly to create vibrato. Fingers elegantly switch from string to string and from various sections of the fingerboard to change the pitch. John's eyes were fixed on Eurus. He saw the intensity in her eyes as she played. He noted how attuned she was to music, listening deeply to her playing and the whole ensemble’s playing. She wasn’t just playing Bartok’s music. She was becoming Bartok’s music. Only the greatest musicians could achieve such a feat.

Each time she played her solo, John was in awe. He never saw such passion, such raw talent in an individual. Sherlock’s violin playing paled in comparison to that of his sister’s. She was a revelation, pure genius!

When the music had ended, John did not realize it. He was so overwhelmed by the incredible performance. It was the elderly woman, who he spoke with earlier, that woke him from his trance and encouraged him to join everyone else in a standing ovation.

As the guests cleared out of the hall, John remained, hopeful that he might see Eurus come in to find him. He then received a text.

_ Come outside. I’m waiting for you at the front of the theater- EH _

In front of the entrance doors, Eurus was standing with her violin case in one hand. John’s heart raced as he looked at her. She looked stunning in her long satin black dress with her dark tresses pinned up in a bun. He just couldn’t take his eyes off of her.

“John!” She gestured him over.

“Hi! And wow! That...was amazing. Extraordinary. You were extraordinary.”

Eurus licked her lips and fussed with her violin case as she replied. “Well...thank you very much, John Watson. I’m so glad that you enjoyed Bartok.”

John gulped as he watched her lips. Heat emanated from his neck, and sweat began to dribble from his brow. “Yes, I enjoyed  _ Bartok  _ very much.”

She beamed and he did so as well. “John, I-”

Suddenly, lips met lips that pressed and intensified. John started and then Eurus reciprocated. Everything felt warm and glorious as they kissed. Soon, Eurus had carefully placed her case down and wrapped her arms around his neck. John then moved his kisses to her cheek, progressing all the way down to her neck. She moaned softly.

John had the urge to continue on, but he took hold of himself and stopped. “How...how could I do this?” he breathed. “How could I do this to Mary?”

“John...she doesn’t have to know.” She gazed at him longingly. “It can be our secret. Just you and me. No one else needs to know...I want you.”

Her confession frightened John. He felt so conflicted. He made a vow to Mary, but Eurus’s power had overwhelmed him. Weak in the knees, he bent forward to lean on her again and whispered in her ear. “I want you too.”

* * *

Ever since John left rehab, both he and Mary promised not to keep alcohol in the house. He agreed that she could drink out with friends or out at dinner, but there was to be no consumption of alcohol in their home. 

Mary had returned home from her fun girl’s night with Molly. She called out John’s name. No answer.

She headed over to the kitchen where she found a note on the countertop.

_ Hey love, _

_ Went out with Sherlock. I’ll be home later. _

_ Love you, _

_ John _

“Didn’t even bother to text me about it,” she muttered to herself. All the drinking made her hungry, so she scooped herself a serving of cookie dough ice cream and plopped herself on the sofa. She settled for a romantic comedy to watch as she ate her late-night snack. Midnight rolled around and John had yet to return. Mary was beginning to have doubts about her husband’s sincerity. Doubts which heightened when she found something rather shocking in the linen closet. A bottle of gin. “That bastard!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, John fans! He's not going to make good choices in this story. Fair warning!  
> Thanks for reading! Can't wait to hear what you all think ^.^


	9. Intimacy of the Younger Holmes Siblings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly reaches out to Sherlock once again for dating advice, and Eurus and John get a little bit...steamed up!

Molly sat by her vanity, tapping a beat on her thigh. It had been five days since her second date with Chris from the Cardiology department, and she still hadn’t heard back from him. She didn’t want to seem overbearing, but she wanted to know what was going on. 

She needed help with how to proceed, so she pulled out her mobile, skimmed through her contacts, and tapped on the name ‘Sherlock Holmes.’

“Yes.”

“Hi Sherlock, it’s me...Molly Hooper from Barts.”

“Oh right, the  _ pathologist _ . What is it? I’m a little preoccupied at the moment. I’m attempting to sketch what this gent would like with his skin, eyes, and hair.”

“Wait! You’re doing forensic facial reconstruction. Cool! How’s that going?”

“Oh! Well, not too bad actually. I’ve determined the shape of the nose and the length of the jaw...Wait, why are you calling me? I don’t need you for a case.”

Molly got flustered. “Oh right! Well, you gave me really good advice that day at the morgue, so I was wondering if you could help me out again.”

Sherlock sighed. “Does this have to do with Jim? Because he’s not-”

“No! God no. This is about Chris.”

“Chris?”

“Yeah, Chris from Cardiology.”

“Oh...him...hmm...yes...forget it, he’s an idiot and noncommittal.”

“Uh...but we went on two dates. It really seemed like we were connecting. We were at happy hour and he-”

“Let me guess, did he say that ‘the only thing happy about this hour is you’?”

Molly paused. “I-uh...well yeah, something along those lines…”

“Forget him, Molly. He’s not interested. You  _ really _ need to start picking up on the signs that are very telling. You’re smarter than this, so I’m sure that you can figure it out.”

Her face flushed from Sherlock’s comment. “Oh well, thank you...I know I’m a capable pathologist and I know that I’m pretty bright, but when it comes to men, I just get so caught up that… I lose my head.”

“Oh don’t be too hard on yourself...It’s perfectly normal for a woman like yourself to behave that way around men.”

He heard Molly scoff at that remark.

“... But I must express to you that, from what I’ve seen, you certainly rank above any woman that I have ever encountered.”

Molly covered her mouth with a hand, hiding a smile. “Um...thank you, Sherlock.”

“And if it helps, I too have had blunders with the opposite sex.”

That piqued her interest. “Oh? Do tell.”

“Her name was Irene Adler, and she was brilliant. She outsmarted me at least twice while I was investigating a case that involved her….and...I felt  _ something _ towards her.”

“...So what happened between you two?” She asked as she twirled her hair.

“We spent a night together, and then she fled to Europe and eloped with another man. I never saw her again.”

Molly detected something in his voice (it was almost like sadness) as he shared his story. Her chest tightened and she actually felt...empathy for him. He was sharing something so private, so intimate, with her. She wasn’t sure how to respond. “Oh Sherlock, I’m so sorry. No one deserves to be treated that way...no one.”

“Right, yes...um...thank you…” His mood abruptly shifted as he went on. “Oh! And if you’re not too busy, I could use your help with an experiment on what bruises can form on a body soon after death. Interested?”

His offer made her jump with excitement. “Definitely!”

“Oh good, then I’ll see you at Bart’s in twenty minutes...and Molly…”

“Yes.”

“For the sake of law and order, I suggest you avoid all future attempts at a relationship. See you soon.” Sherlock hung up the phone and dashed to his closet to collect his scarf and coat.

On the other end, Molly’s jaw was hanging for a considerable amount of time. One after the other, each of his comments baffled her, but that last statement left her gutted. However rude of a statement it was, Molly couldn’t help but think that something else was behind it. 

_ If any other man said that to me, I would’ve thought that he was jealous. But, he’s Sherlock Holmes, and Sherlock never gets jealous….does he? _

* * *

It had been a week since Eurus and John shared their first kiss that night after her concert. Since then, they took advantage of any possible opportunity to see each other. 

On this particular evening, John told Mary that he would be out late at the gym. He was not lying exactly. Athletics were involved...

John was gasping for air as Eurus sucked indulgently on his cock. Their movements were restrictive due to the fact that they were in a car, but that didn’t stop them. He ran his fingers through her hair as he felt immense pleasure radiating through his body.

Hours passed as the car steamed up and their bodies moistened. It took all of her willpower to tear herself from John, giving herself a moment to catch her breath. “Shit!” John shouted as he checked his mobile. “I gotta get home. It’s too late.”

Eurus coughed, choking on his cum. “And what do you intend to tell your wife?”

John was still heaving labored breaths, so it took him longer than expected to respond. “Well, I told her I was going to the gym, so I’ll say that I lost track of time while I was... swimming.”

“Swimming?”

“Yes.”

“And you think she’ll believe you.”

He let out a heavy sigh. “Well...I’ll just have to wait and see…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, John...sighs...  
> Thanks for reading, lovelies! Stay tuned for more!


	10. A Tale of Two Relationships

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John's lies are starting to weigh on him, and Molly gets dragged away from her date.

Before entering the flat, John took a deep breath in and prayed. He prayed that Mary would believe him, that he could somehow piece together and fix the mess he’d made. But praying didn’t do anything to calm his nerves. The consequences of his affair with Eurus were crashing in on him. Crushing him. Suffocating him. Drowning him.

He let out his breath as he opened the door. “Mary! I’m back.” He found her sipping some tea while reading a book on the sofa. 

“Hey love,” she said as he leaned in for a kiss. “How was the gym?”

“Long! Lost track of time while doing laps in the pool.” John collapsed onto the sofa and began massaging her feet.

“Mmmm...that’s nice though. I  _ like _ a man that...exercises,” teased Mary. 

“Oh, is that so?” John played along.

“ _ Definitely.”  _ She said as she leaned in for another kiss. “John…” She whispered in between kisses. “Why...did I...find a...bottle of gin in the linen closet?”

John scooted away from Mary on the couch and bowed his head. “Shit.”

“WHAT the hell, John?! Did those two years in rehab do nothing for you? How long have you been keeping up this ruse?”

“Mary-”

“Can’t believe you lied to me, John. Me! Your wife. Your partner.”

“It’s not mine.”

“And I can’t- wait...what?” She couldn’t believe what she just heard. “Excuse me? I find a bottle of gin in our home, a place that we promised each other would remain dry, and you expect me to believe that it’s not yours?”

“It’s a gift, Mary!” He stunned her into silence. “Did you even check to see if it was opened or not?”

“I...uh…”

“Of course you didn’t. It’s a gift for Lestrade. Remember him? His birthday’s coming up, and I was going to surprise him with gin, his favorite drink.”

“...John...I’m sorry. I just...I don’t like being lied to.”

“I know.”

“I will not be lied to. Are we clear?” He nodded in agreement. “Good. I’m going to bed.”

As Mary made her way upstairs, John’s head fell into his hands, and he sighed deeply. 

“Fuck, that was close,” he whispered. 

* * *

“Oh, Tom! You’re so funny!”

“I swear to you, Molly. That’s how it happened.”

“Oh god!”

“And then he asked me for my  _ autograph! _ ”

Molly was tearing up from laughing so hard. This was the most entertaining lunch break she’d had in years, and it was all thanks to Tom.

Finally, she found a nice stand-up guy with a great sense of humor and a winning smile. He was not conceited or arrogant or noncommittal. Their banter continued as they sat in the cafe and munched on their sandwiches. The date was going so well.

The only problem was that Sherlock was passing by and spotted her. Coincidentally, he wanted access to the lab for another case, and Molly was just the girl he needed. Sherlock was so discreet as he entered the cafe that Molly didn’t notice him until he was directly in front of their table.

Molly nearly choked on the water she was drinking when she saw him standing there. “Sherlock! Wha-what are you doing here?”

“I need to get into Bart’s lab. Gotta do some tests for a case I’m working on. I  _ really _ need your help. I’m not  _ interrupting _ anything, am I?”

Molly flushed as she glanced back and forth between Tom and Sherlock. “Well, actually Sherlock we were-”

“Having lunch? Hmm, yes, I could see that. But no matter! You can have lunch with me while we work. I’ve got crisps!” His eyes widened as he finished his last statement like he was giving her an offer she couldn’t refuse.

Molly huffed. “Um...Sherlock, this is Tom. Tom, this is Sherlock. We...work together.” 

“Hi! Nice to meet you,” said Tom cheerfully.

“Tom...hmm...,” muttered Sherlock as he began to make deductions in his Mind Palace.

_ Only Child, Rugby player on weekends, Eager to Please. _

_ Works in the city, a broker with no serious career ambitions… _

And there, he found it. How he would convince Molly to go with him.

“Molly, I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but you are currently dating a broker with no serious career plans, who’s completely gullible, and a total conspiracy theorist. In short, a mentally unstable, stupid man who is going nowhere in life. Now come on Molly, let’s go!”

“But, Sherlock I-”

Sherlock tugged at Molly’s arm, forcing her to stand up and follow him out of the cafe. And poor Tom was left alone to pay the bill. 

* * *

Sherlock and Molly were analyzing samples of oil traces found on the suspect’s shoes. Their goal was to determine what compounds could be found in the oil, which could subsequently lead Sherlock to where the suspect had been. 

Molly was still frustrated at how Sherlock had behaved back at the cafe, but she held her tongue because she genuinely wanted to help him. In an unusual way, they had become friends. She was not sure when they went from just being acquaintances to being friends, but somehow it happened. 

“John, I need that analysis,” demanded Sherlock.

“Molly.”

“Hmm.”

“My name is Molly.”

Sherlock gave a barely acknowledged reply of ‘yes’ as he continued working.

That gave Molly the motivation she needed to speak up. “You know... that was really uncalled for. What you did back at the cafe.”

“Oh please, Molly. Don’t tell me you were actually interested in that buffoon.”

“Yes, actually,” replied Molly indignantly. “I found him to be..funny and- and he had a nice smile!”

“Molly, honestly. You  _ need _ to find a better example of the male species to date.”

She paused her work to turn to him. “Oh! And you think you know what that is, do you?”

“Yes,” retorted Sherlock matter of factly. “In fact…” He stopped what he was doing to turn to look at her. “I know someone who actually...might be a good match for you.”

Molly chuckled, “Oh, please…”

“No, really. He’s… a man and he’s good at it.” Sherlock’s description of this man made Molly laugh louder. “His name is Lestrade. He’s a policeman from Scotland Yard. Perhaps I can...arrange for you two to meet.”

She took a moment to think it over. “Well… that would be very...nice, Sherlock. Thank you.”

“Absolutely! Always here to help.” Molly could have sworn that he uttered the words ‘a friend’ at the end of that statement. 

As they continued working, her eyes would casually glance over at Sherlock. Molly took the time to note some of his features. His piercing blue eyes, his full lips, his dark, messy curls, and his cheekbones. Boy were those cheekbones high and pronounced. Molly began to feel a little warm the more she looked at him. She started to blush, and she felt her heart rate increase.

_ Oh dear lord,  _ she thought.  _ Him? I’m falling for...Sherlock? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Mizjoely and Mistykin06 for sharing ideas about what Sherlock’s deductions about Tom would be! There were so many options to choose from. Teehee ^.^  
> Thanks for reading lovelies!


	11. Pride and Prejudice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Holmes brothers have a chat, and Molly's blind date doesn't go as she expected...

Mycroft was staring intensely into his glass of whiskey as his brother Sherlock was puttering around with newspaper clippings. “Are you going to be fussing over cases each time you visit me at  The Diogenes Club , brother mine?” asked Mycroft, exasperated. 

Sherlock continued to organize the papers as he answered. “Well, technically, this is where you live now, right? And no, brother dear. I’m simply here to get your advice and also to... _ catch up _ . I don’t see anything wrong with that, do you?” He got no answer. “Anyways, how’s the exile from Anthea’s flat going?” 

Mycroft narrowed his eyes. “Come on, Sherlock! When have we ever talked about such private matters?”

His young brother stopped what he was doing and looked up. “We’re family. That’s what families do, right? Talk about things like that.”

“Mmm, yes, well...I don’t foresee me repairing the relationship any time soon.”

“And why’s that?” asked Sherlock.

“Because, brother mine, I still don’t believe in marriage, and, so long as I feel that way, Anthea won’t have me.”

Sherlock gave a ‘hmm’ in reply as he considered Mycroft’s point. “Well...it’s true that us Holmes view marriage to be antiquated, but...if you were happy with her, and marriage is the only thing she’s asking for, why not just agree to her terms? That way, you could be with her.”

Mycroft sighed. “Because it's a matter of principle. I’m a man of my word.”

“Well, I’m sorry to have to tell you this, brother dear, but your pride is preventing you from being...happy.” Sherlock observed as his brother finished off his whiskey and slumped in his chair. 

He quickly changed the subject. “Now, what do you make of these killings?”

* * *

It was the night before her sister’s wedding. Anthea and all of her family were seated at long tables in the back room of a local restaurant, enjoying a meal together to celebrate the happy couple. Hearty foods such as assorted meats and sides like potatoes and green beans were among the choices. Not particularly Anthea’s favorite, but her appetite had greatly diminished not just by the food but by the people that surrounded her. Amidst the conversations, she overheard several cousins making some rather impolite comments. 

“Such a shame, what happened to Anthea,” one mentioned softly. 

“Yeah, and she’s the eldest daughter,” whispered another. “It seems odd that the younger one is marrying first.”

“Exactly, and I honestly doubt Anthea will find anyone else. Seven years was a _ long _ time to date someone. I thought for sure she was gonna marry whatever his name was...Mike...Mick...oh well, it’s just so sad.”

Anthea held back her tears as she discreetly excused herself from her table, desperate for a moment to be alone. Her father was the only person to notice. She walked up the ramp that led to the front entrance, and he soon followed after her.

“Thea...Anthea!” he called out. She stopped, allowing him the opportunity to catch up to her. “Don’t listen to them, love. Those cousins were always rather thick.”

Anthea laughed. “I know, Dad...I just...needed a moment. That’s all.” 

Her father placed a hand on her back and started to rub in little gentle circles. “You were always my favorite daughter. You know that, right?”

“Dad!”

“I know. I’m not supposed to say that. But, hell, Thea! I’m old. I can say whatever I want, and I say that you are the brightest out of all my children.” Anthea smiled and wrapped her arms around his middle, squeezing tightly. Her father wrapped his arms around her shoulders, letting her head rest on his chest. “You’re gonna be just fine, Pet. You hear me?”

“Thanks, Dad,” she laughed. 

* * *

Sherlock did as he promised. He arranged for Molly to meet DI Greg Lestrade.

_ I’ll introduce you to him tonight _

_ 6 pm at Harps, the pub by Covent Garden _

_ Make sure do your makeup _

_ Lestrade likes women in makeup _

_ Don’t know why _

_ He just does- SH _

_ Hahaha, okay Sherlock _

_ Looking forward to it :)- MH _

* * *

Molly was the first to arrive, and it was only five o’clock. It was a nervous habit of hers to arrive earlier than expected. A habit that she developed during her years at Uni. When she had to balance school and her part-time job, punctuality was a necessity.

She proceeded to pick an empty table off to the left-hand side of the pub and take a seat. Selecting the camera app on her phone, Molly checked out her reflection to make sure her hair was presentable and to see if her makeup needed to be retouched. 

She anxiously tapped on the tabletop and frequently whistled as she waited for Lestrade and Sherlock to come. She was nursing a pint of beer, taking little sips, and snacking on crisps in between. Molly had no interest in getting ill from her drink, especially before meeting someone on a blind date. 

Finally, she spotted a familiar face enter the pub. Sherlock Holmes made his way over to her table. “Molly, sorry to tell you this, but Lestrade couldn’t come tonight. An obligation at work. He sends his sincere apologies and hopes to meet you soon.”

Disappointment was written all over her face. Sherlock pulled a chair next to her. “Well, perhaps since you’re already here, I could have a drink with you.”

She laughed at him. “You drink?”

“Occasionally,” he remarked. “So...is that all right?”

She nodded. “Yeah, sure! That would be really nice.”

“After all,” he added. “It’s just sad for a woman to be drinking alone.” He gave her a cheeky wink, and she let out a giggle.

Sherlock spent the evening discussing his favorite cases, and Molly couldn’t get enough of it. She wanted to hear more, asking numerous questions about the forensic evidence he’d found at each crime scene and what it was like to face real danger when he pursued a suspect.

“There was this one time I had to wrestle with a notorious hitman,” Sherlock recalled.

“What was that like?!” queried Molly.

“Well, he had a very good left hook, so I needed to be nimble and agile. My strategy was simple: tire him out. I dodged so many of his throws that I wore him out quickly. And when I finally swung at him, he was pinned to the ground, and Scotland Yard had arrived to make the arrest.”

“Simple, but effective!”

“Exactly!” 

“Oh! Maybe you can make some deductions about the people in the pub. Doing couples would be even better!”

Sherlock smirked. “Be careful what you wish for.” He took a moment to scan the room to find his first subject. “Ah! See there. Those two.”

Molly turned to see a beautiful woman with blonde hair chatting with a tall, dark-haired man with stubbly cheeks. “Them.” She nodded.

“Yep,” confirmed Sherlock. “That man has absolutely no interest in her.”

“But, she’s beautiful! How do you know?”

“She’s babbling on about the rubbish fad diet that she just started, and he’s thinking ‘Good Lord, get me out of here!’...And watch carefully, he spills the drink on purpose. Oh, how fortuitous! Now, he has the opportunity to get away.”

Molly laughed as she saw the scene unfold just as Sherlock said it would. “You, sir, have a gift.”

“Hmm, yes I know. Now check out the droopy looking chap to the left of her. He’s probably going to insist on buying her a drink. As they chat, she’s going to say there’s no spark.”

Molly shook her head in astonishment, and Sherlock smiled at her. It had been quite a while since he’d spoken this long with someone of the opposite sex. At that moment, Molly made no reply or asked another question. She just turned to gaze at him with a dazzling grin. He started noticing the tiniest details of her face. How her brown eyes had a hint of gold to them in this light. How her small mouth seemed more alluring with red lipstick. How nice she looked with her hair down rather than pulled up in a ponytail the way she usually wore it. Sherlock gulped when he realized that he had been staring for too long. He averted his gaze and switched his attention to the telly that was broadcasting a football game.

Molly felt a little disappointed that he looked away from her. “Sherlock, this has been great and all, but it’s getting late, so I think I’ll head out.”

“Oh, right. Yeah, sure. Go ahead. Have a good night.” He said all of that without once turning to look at her. She took great offense to that. Forcefully, she tucked her chair in and said ‘bye’ in an agitated, passive-aggressive tone.

As she left, Sherlock’s eyes followed her, observing how upset she was. When Molly was out of sight, he closed his eyes and sighed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading lovelies!


	12. Love is Hard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mary learns part of the truth about John, Jim is crazy for Eurus, John is crazy for Eurus, and Molly is now confident that Sherlock likes her...

As construction workers were sanding cabinet doors and waxing the floors, Mary stepped out to make a phone call.

“Hi Greg, it’s Mary. How are you?”

“Oh hi there! Everything’s all right. Can’t complain. You?”

“Good, good...listen, I heard that your birthday was coming up. So, just out of curiosity, do you like gin?”

Lestrade paused. “Mary… I don’t know who you’ve been talking to, but my birthday was last month, and I honestly can’t stand gin.”

Disappointment and rage were swelling up in Mary as she remained on the phone with her mouth agape. “I...you know what. My mistake. I was thinking of somebody else whose birthday is coming up and who likes gin.”

”Mary, is everything okay?” asked Greg, feeling a little concerned.

“Yeah! Everything’s great.”

He heard her feigning happiness in her voice, and it worried him. “Okay, just...call me if you need anything all right?”

“Yeah, sure. Thanks! Bye.”

After hanging up, she finally released the feelings she’d bottled up with a long, painful scream. Luckily, the noise from the construction was equally as loud so no one took notice of it. When she finished, her throat felt raw and swollen. Tears ran down her face, and she was having trouble breathing. “Oh god...oh god. He lied to me. I bet that lying sack of shit is having an affair. That arsehole!...and….and I’m having his baby.”

* * *

“And cut! That’s a rap,” yelled the director. Jim relaxed from his pose. “Nice work, Jim! See you tomorrow.”

Jim thanked the director as he left the sound stage. In his trailer, he was scrolling through Facebook, and he came across pictures of him and Eurus. It had been a month since that night they slept together, and he couldn’t get her out of his head. “I gotta call her,” he whispered.

His phone rang in his ear three times before she picked up. “Hullo Jim, what’s going on?”

Her voice made him smile. “Oh nothing, just wanted to chat. See how you were doing.”

“Thanks. Doing all right on my end of things. How’s your show going?”

“Well, it’s going into its fourth season, so obviously not too bad.” Jim heard her laugh. “You have such a nice laugh, Eurus...I was wondering. Do you, maybe, wanna catch a movie or grab a bite to eat later?” He bit his lip as he waited for her to respond.

“Oh, Jim, I...I’d love to, but…I can’t. Not right now.”

He snorted. “Care to tell me why?”

Eurus sensed frustration in his tone of voice. “Don’t be like that. I know how angry you can get.”

“I’m not angry!!!” he snapped. Jim then took a deep breath before he continued in a much calmer voice. “I just would like an explanation about why you’re rejecting me...is there someone else?”

“No,” she lied. “I just need space right now. I promise that when I’m ready, I’ll let you know.”

“Right. Okay. Bye.” After hanging up, Jim pressed the phone to his lips and closed his eyes. Eurus had officially seeped into his soul, his heart. He wanted her, only her.

* * *

Eurus locked her mobile and went back into the bedroom. John was wearing nothing but his pants and watching the news on his tablet. “Hey love, who was that?”

“Oh, no one important,” she fibbed, planting a kiss on his cheek. 

John gazed at her and whispered, “Shit.”

“What? What’s wrong?” asked Eurus, feeling slightly troubled by his choice of words. 

“It’s that...I’ve never felt this way before. I literally need to force myself to stop thinking about you.”

“Why stop?” she teased.

“Because this isn’t something that I do...sleeping with women that aren’t my wife.” 

Eurus exhaled and collapsed on the bed. “First of all, I am not ‘women.’ I’m one woman. And secondly… I can’t stop thinking about you either.”

John leaned close and smiled as he placed one hand behind her back and the other on her belly. His kisses started at her navel and worked their way down. He took great pleasure in threading her needle. His tongue exploring her every crevice…

* * *

After a long work week, nothing pleased Molly more than sitting on her couch with her cat, Toby, eating popcorn, and watching the BBC miniseries: Pride and Prejudice. She couldn’t recall how many times she had watched it, but, each time, Molly fell in love with the story all over again. While watching, she subconsciously would recite the lines along with Jennifer Ehle and Colin Firth. “ _ I believe we must have some conversation, Mr. Darcy _ ,” she muttered to herself as she grabbed a handful of popcorn from the bowl. “ _ A very little will suffice. _ ”

Her fun was then cut short by the vibration of her mobile. Molly glanced down at the screen and read the message.

_ There’s a gala that I’m attending next Friday night. I wish for you to accompany me- SH _

A delightful feeling coursed through her body as she replied. 

_ What?-MH _

_ It’s for a case, Molly. No need to get worked up about it- SH _

_ Oh, okay- MH _

_ Be sure to wear a formal dress of some kind. If you don’t have anything appropriate, I’m sure Anthea can help- SH _

_ Okay. Can you tell me where this gala will be held?- MH _

_ Not necessary. I’ll be picking you up @ 6 pm. See you then- SH _

Molly chuckled. “Well, he’s not exactly Mr. Darcy, ay Toby?” Her cat purred as she stroked his head. 

Her thoughts continued to focus on Sherlock. She thought about all those moments where he gave her dating advice, all the times he needed her, and the times where they just talked for hours. And now, he was inviting her to a gala. Molly reached a conclusion she never thought could be possible. “Oh my God...He likes me!”

* * *

“Wait, say that again?” asked Mary as she popped her head out from behind the fitting room curtain.

“He’s into me. He really _ likes  _ me, Mary!” exclaimed Molly.

Mary closed the curtain to allow herself privacy to change while still talking to her rather eager friend on the other side. “Molly, that’s great, but how do you know?”

“It’s just so clear to me. He’s Darcy.”

“Say what now?” Mary drew back the curtains to reveal her astonished expression. Thankfully, she was fully clothed.

“From  _ Pride and Prejudice. _ He’s been seeking me out in such a similar way. There are so many signs!” Molly couldn’t contain herself. She divulged all the situations where Sherlock needed her or dragged her away from a man in order to spend time with her. 

Mary was thinking about her friend’s argument more realistically than she, but Mary couldn’t deny that Molly’s rationale explained why Sherlock spent all that time with her.

“And to top it all off, he’s invited me to a gala! Mind you, it’s for a case, but still! A night at a gala with him! Mary, it’s a proper date!”

Mary beamed as she gave Molly a big hug. “Oh, I’m so happy for you!” As they parted, Molly noticed fresh tears welling up in her friend’s eyes.

“Mary...you’re crying.” She touched a hand to her face to feel if the tears were real. Once Mary sensed them, her cries turned into heavy sobs, and Molly leaned in to comfort her friend while also trying to ignore the nosy customers that were observing the scene. “Tell me what’s wrong,” asked Molly gently.

Through her cries, Mary made an effort to speak, “It’s...John...he...is...having an affair...I think..and drinking again!” She then muffled her wails by sobbing into Molly’s shoulder. 

Molly gave her a comforting squeeze as her shoulder became damp with tears and snot. “How do you know?” she whispered in her ear.

“There are...signs,” breathed Mary. “He’s out late almost every other night with ‘ _ Sherlock _ .’ Or so he says, and he lied about the gin bottle I found in our linen closet.”

Molly carefully pulled away to make eye contact with Mary. “Have you confronted him yet?... About all this?”

“No,” she cried. “Because I’m afraid that I’ll be right! And worst of all….I’m pregnant.” Another wave of cries came over Mary, and she covered her mouth in an attempt to stifle them.

“Mary...you won’t know if it’s true unless you ask. I know it will be frightening. You gotta do it. For your sake and for his.”

Mary nodded and sniffled some more as she enveloped her arms around her friend for another hug. Molly gladly accepted it, cradling her dear friend, hoping that she could make her feel better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos! And thanks for reading! Stay tuned for the next update coming up soon :)


	13. You Didn't Win

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anthea attends her sister's wedding, and Sherlock and Molly go to a gala

Despite Ginny’s horrible choice of colors, her wedding ceremony was beautiful. Satin sashes wrapped around chairs. Hydrangeas and orchids made elegant centerpieces. And the bride and groom exchanged heartfelt vows.

Unfortunately for Anthea, no wedding date meant sitting mostly by herself with a glass of champagne. Occasionally, a hopeful young gentleman would come and sit next to her, but none of them offered any real meaningful conversation. As the night progressed, Anthea was determined to enjoy herself on the dance floor, trying her best not to think about Mycroft. As she danced among the wedding guests, her father cut in to join her. A big smile reached her face, and she felt even more content as he swung her around like he did when she was little.

Then, suddenly, he clutched a hand to his chest, and his face scrunched. He fell to his knees and started wheezing. “Dad!” Anthea yelled. “Somebody! Anybody, call an ambulance!!”

* * *

Molly was in the middle of staining her lips with a flattering shade of pink when she heard a knock at the door. As expected, it was Sherlock Holmes, ready to take her to the gala that he invited her to. While seated in the cab, Sherlock briefly complimented her dress, saying that ‘it suited her well.’

Her dress’s hue was reminiscent of a white pearl or opal, and it came to just below her knees in length. A simple A-line dress, but it flattered her figure nonetheless. Her choice of hairstyle was also simple. She kept her hair down and only enhanced it with soft curls at the ends. 

The ride to the gala’s venue was mostly a silent one. Whenever Molly inquired about the details regarding the case or what sort of gala they were attending, Sherlock would respond along the lines of ‘I can’t disclose that information to you’ or ‘Really Molly, there’s no need to ask such questions.’ His responses or lack thereof left Molly slightly perturbed, but, instead of retorting back, she chose to distract herself by glancing at the scenery moving swiftly past her window. 

Eventually, the cab stopped at the Andaz London Hotel. Through her window, Molly spotted people dressed in black tie attire entering the hotel. One particular man, who was surrounded by other men, stood out to her. “Sherlock?”

He replied with a ‘Hmm?’

“By any chance, would the Prime Minister be attending this gala tonight?”

Sherlock's lips moved nervously, and he twiddled his fingers. “Oh...possibly,” he said as he exited the cab. Molly beamed at him when he opened the door for her. She had never seen the Prime Minister in person nor had she ever attended such an exclusive event. It made her both excited and anxious at the same time.

The interior of the grand ballroom was breathtaking. There was marble flooring tiled in geometric patterns. Long thick columns extended up into the ceiling where Molly noticed intricate crown molding that connected to the tops of each column, creating a complicated but awe-inspiring maze on the ceiling.

A great deal of the venue was taken up by tables and chairs. Guests mingled around, as well as congregated at the bars, four of them set up against each wall. As Molly marveled at the gorgeous ballroom, she felt fingers lace through hers. She turned to see Sherlock right next to her, now firmly holding her hand. She  felt the heat of his palm pressed against her own. He craned his head down and whispered, “Come with me. There’s someone we need to meet.”

Molly let Sherlock lead her through the bevy of party-goers. On more than one occasion, Molly would interject a ‘sorry,’ pardon me,’ or ‘excuse us’ when she inadvertently bumped someone. Sherlock, of course, was not so polite. With single-minded determination, he guided her to a corner of the room where two women and two men, most likely couples, were standing together, drinking and laughing. One of the gentlemen’s faces looked very familiar to Molly, but she couldn’t recall from where.

“Good evening gentleman, and ladies!” greeted Sherlock, interrupting the group’s conversation. All four turned to look. To the far right stood a rather portly man who was long in the tooth, had beefy cheeks, and barely any hair left on his head. He nodded politely. Next to him was a woman, thin as a rail and around the same age as the man next to her. Her face bore a striking resemblance to a horse. She barely acknowledged Sherlock and Molly, provided only a glance down her nose.  Next to her stood the other woman who was much more comely than the previous.  Her dark hair flowed just below her shoulder in elegant waves. Her eyebrows were perfectly shaped above her oval brown eyes. Her skin was a faintly olive-like complexion. The most striking feature that Molly noticed was the self-satisfied, flirtatious smirk on her face as she stared at Sherlock. A twinge of jealousy pinched Molly in her gut. 

Finally, she got a closer look at the gentleman to the far left, the man whose face she’d recognized. His small eyes hid behind clear rimless glasses. His even smaller mouth was lost within his well-trimmed beard. Its color was a mix of dirty blonde and gray, and the color of his hair, or what was left of it, matched it. 

He looked at Molly like a shark eyeing its prey. The flat face and dead eyes, exactly like a shark. Among the four of them, he was the only one to verbally reply. “Sherlock Holmes. A pleasure to make your acquaintance.” His voice was oily, and there was a hint of an accent. Danish or Finnish? Molly couldn’t discern it, but he made her feel very uneasy. “And who is this...enchanting woman next to you?” Molly squeezed Sherlock’s hand and swallowed thickly. 

“Mr. Magnussen, this is Dr. Molly Hooper of St. Bart’s Hospital,” answered Sherlock as he thumbed her hand gently.

“Yes, of course. Charmed to make your acquaintance.” Mr. Magnussen took hold of Molly’s free hand and brought it to his lips. His touch made her flinch.

“Mr. Magnussen, I wonder if we could speak...in private,” said Sherlock through gritted teeth. 

“Oh? Why can’t we chat here? Why there’s quite a lot…” Magnussen paused for a moment as his eyes peered over his glasses as if he were scanning for something. At that moment, Molly could have sworn she heard him mutter the word ‘Redbeard.’ Quickly, she felt Sherlock let go of her hand. She saw the tension and fear running through him, and her expression soon matched the worry she felt. “Isn’t there, Mr. Holmes?” Magnussen finally finished his thought. 

“Uh...yes, well...are you accepting the offer or not?” Sherlock inquired.

Magnussen nodded and excused himself from his party. “Stay here. I won’t be long,” whispered Sherlock to Molly. Magnussen started to lead Sherlock towards an archway that led out of the ballroom. As Sherlock passed by the attractive, dark-haired woman, Molly saw her flash him a wink and jealousy gripped her again.

As soon as Sherlock and Magnussen disappeared into the crowd, Molly felt obligated to continue a conversation with the other three. “So, I must know,” she started. “Who exactly was that man?”

The portly gentleman chose to answer. “That, my dear, was one of the most influential men in all of Britain. They give him the nickname: ‘The Napoleon of Blackmail.’” 

Molly felt her stomach drop as she heard the name. She had heard it before. One day at work, she was doing the autopsy of an international dignitary, an apparent suicide. After she had filed the paperwork, she read somewhere in the papers that the deceased man had connections to the Napoleon of Blackmail. She also remembered seeing a photograph of this notorious blackmailer. The man in the photo and the man Molly had just met were one and the same.

“Thank you, sir, but I don’t think I caught your name,” she replied.

“Ah, yes! Where are my manners? I’m George Norbury, and this is my wife, Vivian.” His wife gave her a subtle nod.

“Pleased to meet you both. And you, miss?” Molly turned her attention to the woman who was recently checking out Sherlock.

“Janine Hawkins, very nice to meet you.” Janine gave her a small smile, and Molly returned in kind.

“Likewise. May I ask how you know Sherlock?”

“Oh, Sherl? We dated for a short time.” 

A wave of relief washed over Molly.  _ Dated. Past tense!  _ “Oh! What was that like?” She was very curious about what juicy details his former lover would share.

“Well...he’s one of a kind. But, it wasn’t meant to last between us. He was so...I don’t know.”

“Different?” added Molly.

Janine smiled. “Yes. Exactly. Unfortunately, he had a tendency to be very distant, always kept himself at arm’s length... And what about you, Molly?”

Molly’s eyes widened. “What about me?”

“Are Sherlock’s girl now?” the woman asked teasingly. 

Molly gasped slightly from such an audacious question. She never considered herself to be Sherlock’s ‘girl.’ A friend, maybe, or a colleague, but never his girl. “No,” she answered. “I think that...maybe we might be something, but I can’t really say for sure. There’ve been...signs.”

Janine’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh! Do tell!”

* * *

  
  


After several glasses of wine, Molly was starting to enjoy Janine’s company. Her stories about Sherlock made Molly laugh so hard she thought she would burst. He was apparently quite an awkward boyfriend. But still, the idea of him being  _ anyone’s _ boyfriend made her blush.

Just as Molly was about to tell Janine one of her Sherlock stories, the man himself made his return. “Janine! I see you’ve become well acquainted with my pathologist.”

“She’s a keeper, Sherly. You’re very lucky,” proclaimed Janine, taking another sip of her Merlot.

Sherlock didn’t verbally respond. He simply narrowed his eyes and nodded as he took Molly by the arm. “Come on, Molly. Time to go. Nice to see you again, Janine.”

With copious amounts of alcohol in her system, Molly found it difficult to walk straight, and it also caused her to giggle at inconsequential moments. Sherlock was far too determined on leaving the hotel to take notice.

As soon as they were outside, he hailed a taxi and assisted Molly into her seat.

“Well, thisss was nice,” slurred Molly as they drove away.

“Hmm, yes. Got plenty of information. I now know how to get access to Appledore and swipe Lady Smallwood’s file. Excellent!” Sherlock was clearly him talking to himself, but Molly was so intoxicated that she failed to notice. “Ah, here we are.”

At the front steps, Molly was fumbling around in her attempts to open the door. Sherlock guided her hands, helping her insert the key and give it a turn. Molly crashed on the couch upon entering the flat. She crouched her legs close to her chest and patted on the empty sofa seat, offering it up to Sherlock. He accepted hesitantly. She watched him intently as he took a seat. His eyes met hers, and they lingered for a moment.

Then, without warning, Molly lunged for Sherlock. She nearly missed, her lips a tad too far to the right and her nose bumping against his, but she persisted. She tilted her head so that their lips could meet firmly at last. She heard him moan as she deepened the kiss, and she also felt his cock begin to stir under her. Sherlock then abruptly pulled her away, breathless. “Wha-what was that?” he murmured. 

Molly smirked playfully, “Oh come one, Sherlock. You don’t need to pretend anymore. I know you like me.”

Sherlock’s head tilted back in confusion, and he squinted his eyes. “What?! Where did you get that idea?”

Molly’s smile soon faded when she realized that Sherlock genuinely didn’t understand. “Well...you spent a lot of time talking to me at Bart’s, and, time and time again, you made sure that my dates were complete failures. When you look at me sometimes, it’s like I’m the only one you see. And... tonight was basically a date, and I felt something...”

Sherlock exhaled and buried his head in his hands. “Molly, why did you have to do this? Since the day I met you, I told you that if a man wants to be with you, he’ll make it happen.” His head popped up to look at her. “He’ll ask you out! I didn’t ask you out, Molly! I told you this was for a case. God, why do women do this? Take everything a man does and then twist into something else! It’s infuriating.” He angrily shot up off the couch and went into the kitchen to help himself to a glass of water.

Molly just sat there. An expression of disillusionment and heartache spread across her face. After taking a moment to reflect, she finally spoke up. “I’d rather be like that, then be like you.”   
Sherlock put down his glass and came back into the sitting room. “Excuse me? And what exactly is that supposed to mean?” His hands were on his hips, suggesting he took offense to that remark.

“Sherlock, I may be awkward and misconstrue what men do. And I may wear my heart on my sleeve, but at least that means that I still care!... And what? You think you’ve won?! Because women are..a commodity to you? Something you can use and then throw away?” Tears threatened to spill as she continued. “You remain cold and distant, and that may protect you, but it prevents you from falling in love. From being a complete human being!”

Sherlock’s eyes began to change as he listened. Eyes that were once proud now softened and turned melancholy. “And I really thought you showed me the real you. I could see you, Sherlock Holmes the man, but I guess I was wrong. You didn’t win, Sherlock, because you’re alone!”

Molly made her way to her front door, forcefully opening it and gesturing for him to leave. Sherlock nodded and made his way to the threshold. His head tilted down and his feet heavier with each step. Once he was outside, he turned to look at her once again. Except, this time, fresh tears were running down her cheeks. “I may not be as brilliant as you, but I know I’m a lot closer to finding someone than you are!” Molly left him with that declaration as she slammed the door in his face. She then collapsed to the floor, bringing her knees into her chest, and sobbed quietly.

On the other side, Sherlock pressed his ear to the door and heard her cries. He closed his eyes as he listened. Her pain was unbearable for him. He wanted to knock on the door. To admit that he was wrong. That he  _ felt _ something too.

But he didn’t. Instead, he hailed a cab and stared forlornly at Molly’s flat as he drove away.


	14. Truth Is A Beautiful Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anthea looks after her father. John makes a big decision about Mary and Eurus. And Sherlock has an epiphany...

At her family home, Anthea was preparing breakfast for her bed-ridden father. He was very lucky that the ambulance came promptly. If it had arrived even a minute later, it might have been too late.

Doctors confirmed that Anthea’s father had suffered a mild heart attack and recommended bed rest, a healthier diet, and some exercise after sufficient rest. Anthea agreed to follow the doctor’s orders to the letter. Her father, on the other hand, wanted some fried tomatoes or chips and a glass of wine, but his daughter’s persistence would prevent him from doing so.

Anthea climbed up the stairs to her father’s bedroom with a breakfast tray in hand. “Oh come on, Thea,” cried her father. “Do I have to eat that cardboard crap?”

Anthea chuckled. “That cardboard crap is whole-wheat toast, and no, I won’t make you any sausage links. Because, generally, those that just suffered a heart attack aren’t supposed to eat animal fat that’s stuffed into a synthetic casing.” She gave her father a knowing grin as she left him to his nutritious breakfast. 

Downstairs, her sister’s new husband was helping himself to her father’s personal collection of vinyl records. “What are you doing?” she asked.

“Do you think your dad would mind if I took some of these?” he replied, flipping through the box of Sintra forty-fives. 

Anthea didn’t dignify that question with an answer. She simply shook her head and made her way to the kitchen to find Ginny sitting on a chair by the island, sipping some coffee. “Your new husband thinks it’s okay to take Dad’s things before he’s even dead! Anyways...we gotta make a grocery trip soon. We just ran out of milk and juice, and there’s barely any meat left in the fridge.” Anthea turned to look at her sister. Her face was scrunched up and she was sniffling. “Oh, Ginny. It’s going to be fine. Dad is going to be okay.” She folded her arms around her sister from behind and gave a comforting squeeze.

* * *

_ Should I leave him? Even if I’m having his baby, can our relationship be salvaged? _

These thoughts raced through Mary’s mind as she sat on the couch watching John wash their dinner plates.

“I know the truth about the bottle,” she confessed.

John turned off the faucet. “Say what?”

She turned to face him. “I said I know that the gin wasn’t for Greg…. John, are you...are you having an affair?” Mary bravely asked him as she felt her throat begin to close as she became overwhelmed with emotion.

John saw the tears streaming down her face and bowed his head. “Yes,” he whispered.

Silent crying turned into loud sobs as Mary buried her face in a sofa pillow. John crossed the room to take a seat next to her. Mary recoiled from him, taking her legs off the couch and onto the floor. “How...how could you do this to us? I thought...we were okay. Better than okay.”

He sighed heavily. “Mary.” His voice cracked. “I don’t know what came over me. First, it was the quiet moments where I drank alone. That was the first lie, and then-” His body started shaking as he continued. “And then I met someone, and it just happened.”

“Do you love her?” she sobbed. Mary heard a sharp inhale, but no reply, causing her to weep more. “Oh John, how could you?! And to top it all off, I’m...pregnant.” Her last utterance squeaked as her throat clenched.

Tightness gripped John’s chest as he realized the gravity of the situation. He felt so torn. He had such lust and desire for Eurus but such trust and adoration for Mary. The decision was everything. No matter what choice he made, his life would drastically change. He had to make up his mind right then and there. “I’ll...I’ll end it.”

Mary’s sobs subsided as she glanced at her husband. “You will?”

“Yes, of course, I will,” he confirmed, moving closer to her.

“Why?”

“Because...you are my wife, and I made a promise-no, a  _ vow-  _ to you. For better or for worse. Those were the words I said when I married you...You have no idea how much I regret my decisions, Mary. Who you thought I was, is the man that I want to be. You make me want to be a better man. The woman that I slept with can’t do that. Only you...always you.” He came in closer, his hands reaching out to cradle her face. She shuddered then eased and savored his touch.

A sad smile formed at the corners of her lips. “You do realize that I’ll need time to heal, and you and I will need therapy after this.” Her statement made both her and John chuckle. A good laugh added a spark between the two. A flame that was once dying was now starting to rekindle. Very, very slowly.

John pulled her forehead to his lips and tenderly planted a kiss. 

* * *

  
  


Eurus waited anxiously for John to meet her at the cafe. Twelve minutes came and went, indicating his tardiness, and worry crept to the back of her mind.

A creak of the door made her turn to see. It was John.

He took a seat across from her, his face solemn. Eurus read his face easily, like a children’s book. “This isn’t going to end well, is it?” she assumed.

John shook his head. A pained laugh escaped Eurus’s lips. “Well, Johnny boy...it was fun while it lasted.” When his eyes met hers, he noticed how glassy they seemed. “It’s for the best,” she went on. “You have a wife, and with that comes certain obligations. No- certain responsibilities.” 

He reached for her hand, but she recoiled. “Eurus...I’m so sorry. I should have never started this.”

She nodded in agreement, her gaze drifting off to the right. “But, I don’t regret it. Any of it.” Her sad smile matched his as she made her leave, not before giving him a kiss on the cheek. “Take care of yourself,” she whispered.

John’s eyes remained closed. Somewhere in his heart, Eurus left an imprint. An indelible mark. Would it stay there forever? That was entirely up to John…

* * *

Sherlock Holmes remained glued to his seat. His eyes were closed, and his hands were steepled under his chin. His ears however were not listening to his best friend, John Watson.

John had sought Sherlock out for help regarding reconciliation with Mary. How his tangled mess of lies was strangling him, and how he was starting to make amends for his prior transgressions. “...and so, I ended it with her….Sherlock, are you listening to me?”

Although a faint ‘hmm’ passed his lips, Sherlock was not attending to his friend. Instead, deep into his Mind Palace, he was thinking about Molly Hooper. Her last words to him echoed in his head on an endless loop. The memory of her permeated his senses. Her pained, tear-stained face etched in his brain. His chest felt hollow just from the very thought of her sadness. 

“Sherlock?!” John’s hollering awoke him, bringing him back into reality. 

“Oh! Sorry, John. I was preoccupied, but, uh, yes this is a difficult time for you.”

“Yeah, it is. Very! What’s the matter with you? You sat there and didn’t listen to me- nothing unusual there-, but I remember Mrs. Hudson said something about how you started writing sad music again and that you barely talk to anyone, even to yourself...Does this all...have to do with a woman?”

Sherlock’s tongue clicked and his lips pressed firmly together. “Possibly,” he uttered.

John did a double-take. “Wait, hold on. It can’t be Irene because that was years ago. Hmm, not Janine. That was a farce of a relationship...Is this about that lab assistant from Barts?”

“Pathologist!” Sherlock quickly corrected him.

“Okay,  _ pathologist _ , right...So, you can’t stop thinking about her, can you?”

“No, I can’t!” he snapped. “It’s like she cemented herself into my brain-no, my very being- and I can’t get her out. She won’t return my texts or my calls, and I’m constantly checking for a reply. It’s exasperating!”

John was having a hysterical fit of laughter at his friend’s expense. “I don't see anything funny about this, John!”

“Oh, it’s funny, Sherlock. Very funny. You have it so bad! You’re sort of- dare I say- acting a lovesick woman.” 

Sherlock’s mouth tightened. John was starting to really get on his nerves. “What the  _ hell  _ could you possibly mean by that?!” 

His friend placed a hand on Sherlock’s shoulder. “You, my friend, are in love with that  _ pathologist _ of yours.”

Sherlock’s heart stilled as he processed John’s statement. His eyes blinked rapidly.

_ Love? Is that what this feels like? Pulse elevated. Body temperature rising.  _

Sherlock’s eyes grew wide as he came to a realization.

_ Oh good lord, I really am in love. I’m in love with Molly Hooper.  _

And that epiphany terrified him.


	15. Some Things Break and Some Things Heal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly gets a phone call from someone she wasn't expecting. Eurus rebounds to Jim, and Sherlock has yet to hear back from Molly.

“Mum! For the last time, he wasn’t my boyfriend. He wasn’t my anything really...just a friend, I guess.” Dr. Laura Hooper was taking a sabbatical in New Zealand, a well-deserved break from the tiresome hours she spent mulling over grad students’ papers. Despite the distance, she insisted on calling Molly at least once a month to keep in touch. And this month, Molly had a lot to divulge to her mum.

“Molly, love, I honestly believe that he’s just being a scared little boy. He’s obviously repressed his emotions so much so that he doesn’t realize what you mean to him.” Molly slumped onto her bed as she listened to her mum’s rationale. Her eyes closed and her face contorted in frustration.

“Mum! You’re doing it again. Don’t psychoanalyze everything! It’s not going to change the fact that he didn’t want me to kiss him.” 

She heard her mum sigh. “Okay, love. Just remember this...You are in control of your life. If you want something to change, you are the one person that can make it happen. Look, I gotta go, but I’ll talk to you later. Maybe even before next month rolls around, okay?”

“Yeah, okay. Love you, Mum. Bye.” Molly placed her phone on her nightstand and plopped herself face-first into her pillow. A loud buzz sounded. Molly groaned.  _ Leave me alone, Sherlock,  _ she thought to himself. Her mobile continued to buzz, signaling a call coming in. Begrudgingly, she accepted the call without looking to see who it was. “Hullo?” said Molly groggily.

“Hi, Molly?” a rather nice sounding man was talking on the other end.

“Yeah, this is her. Who’s calling?”

“It’s Greg. Greg Lestrade. Sherlock tried to arrange for us to meet last week, but I couldn’t make it.”

Molly was taken aback. She lifted her head from her pillow and adjusted herself to an upright position on her bed. “Oh! So...you’re real.”

Greg let out a laugh. “Yeah, I’m real, and I’d be happy to take you out to dinner if you’d like!”

She pressed her lips together and her eyes drifted off to the side as she contemplated his offer. “Yeah, sure. Why not,” she replied with a smile.

* * *

Eurus sat alone in her flat. She was completely still, and her eyes were vacant like her soul had left and only a shell of a person remained. A knock at the door shifted her mood drastically. She leaped to answer it. “Hi! Hi sweetie.”

Jim Moriarty’s mouth tightened as he entered. “See, why did you just call me ‘sweetie’?”

“We always call each other that.”

“Yeah, and we talk for hours on the phone. And we have nights where we end up in each other’s beds. But, Eurus...I want to  _ be  _ with you. Not just your friend, and not just your lover. I want to be in a relationship with you.”

Jim’s ultimatum made Eurus slightly uneasy. She was, after all, still getting over John, and her previous history with Jim was...complicated, to say the least. But it was the sincerity in his eyes that compelled her to give him the answer he wanted to hear.

“Yes. My answer is yes.”

Jim leaned in and enveloped Eurus in a tight embrace. Her chin rested on his shoulder, and she leaned her head against his neck. She was concealing her expression from him.

An unmistakable frown…

* * *

The telly was blaring a football game, and the gents (specifically Ginny’s husband and his friends) in the sitting room were commenting and cheering as the game progressed. A lot of ‘ah come ons’ and ‘yes! yes!’ were the frequent interjections that Anthea could hear in the kitchen. She looked in the fridge and saw barely anything left. Similarly, there was no food in any of the cupboards. Anthea took a deep breath to quell her frustration and headed for the sitting room. Numerous beer bottles could be found on the coffee table and the carpet. Not to mention the beer stains on the sofa.

Anthea turned her head in disgust but still asked the men her question. “Did anyone bother to go to the store to get food?” All of their eyes were glued to the screen, but one of them was  _ courteous  _ enough to say that ‘they got take away, and they’re fine.’

She scoffed at the reply and shook her head in disbelief.  _ If Mycroft were here, he would help. He would care… _

The sound of dishes being stacked caught Anthea’s attention, and she moved towards the sound. Down the hall and through the archway, she saw a familiar figure washing the dishes. She moved closer to see if it was who she thought it was.

She exhaled loudly as Mycroft turned around. “I just...I’ve got to finish these dishes. No one wants a messy kitchen, especially when someone is taking care of an ill parent.” Her mouth started to pout and her eyes were soon watery. “It was Ginny that told me about your dad and I just thought I’d come and help… Oh, and I need to get the laundry done. And I took the liberty of bringing some of your dad’s favorite dishes. I know he likes Indian, and there is an excellent restaurant just down the street. But, don’t worry, I brought healthy options too.”

She held back tears as she ran over to Mycroft and began to shower him in kisses.

* * *

“Okay, I think we made a breakthrough today.” Their counselor put down her pad and pen and folded her hands in her lap. “Remember, honest and open communication is the first step to rebuilding the foundation of your relationship. You are two very strong-willed people. I think you can make it with effort and hard work. I’ll be seeing you two next week, okay?”

John swiped his card to pay for the session while Mary stayed by the exit.

“So…” she started to speak as they left. “What did you think?”

John stopped along the sidewalk and faced her. “I think,” his hand laced into hers, “that there’s a chance for us. That-” His gaze intensified. “I can be the man you want me to be. The man I’m meant to be.”

Mary’s mouth brightened into a smile, and then her lips brushed his, softly, delicately, just long enough that he could inhale her breath. He placed a hand on her swollen belly and surrendered himself to her. The rekindled flame began to grow and spread through his body.

* * *

_ Hi, this is Molly. At the dead centre of town. Hehe. Leave a message!  _

“Molly, it’s me...Sherlock. Um, how are you? I mean- I hope you are well. Haven’t heard from you in a while, and I just wondered how things were going. I was hoping to come and speak to you- in person. But, I guess you’re busy right now. So...call me sometime or text! Yeah, texting works. Okay, bye.” Sherlock buried his head in his hands as he sulked. Sulking was his frequent inclination ever since Molly stopped answering his texts. 

_ John’s right. I have it bad… _

* * *

Ever since Eurus agreed to be in a relationship with Jim, she had a nagging feeling at the back of her mind. A feeling of suspicion. A feeling of vexation. For Jim, he was perfectly content with sporadically losing his temper, revealing unbridled rage, while Eurus sat in silence. This rage persisted to seep through and take her by surprise each time. Each time, she looked on in horror. Each time, she took it in stride. But on this particular night, Eurus’s patience had reached its limits...

Without a sound, she observed Jim continue his tirade about why she shouldn’t be practicing till three in the morning. Or why she can’t cook certain foods. Or why she can’t take up most of the bed when they sleep together. Keys were tossed, nearly hitting Eurus’s head, and then Jim’s next action propelled her to put an end to all of it.

_ Rip!  _ He tore her sheet music that was scattered across the kitchen table. Concertos and Cantatas penned by Bach and Vivaldi now were bits of paper on the floor. Her love, her music destroyed. 

“That. is.  _ Enough _ !” Jim’s face dropped in surprise. “You have no right. No right  _ whatsoever _ to tell me what I can and can’t do, Jim. Nor do you have the right to tear apart what I love! Music is my life!! I’m not some puppet whose strings you can play with. My property isn’t something that you do with as you please!!”

“Eurus-”

“No! We are finished. I knew this would happen. It’s your temper. That’s your weakness. You can’t stand not having control...I pity you.” Her last words were barely heard. The tightness in her throat inhibited her ability to speak. 

Without saying another word, Eurus collected her things and rushed out the door, never looking back. Not once…


	16. You Are My Exception

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I love a happy ending...

Mycroft’s hands were covering Anthea’s eyes. She trusted him to guide her through their flat without letting her bump into anything. Despite that trust, she aired on the side of caution and reached her arms out, allowing her to feel for anything that would come in her path.

He led her to the dining room table and uncovered her eyes, revealing his surprise for her. Anthea opened her eyes to find the table decorated in rose petals, a large chocolate cake in the center, and table settings for two. When she turned to Mycroft, she found him down on his knee.

She covered her mouth with her hands, hiding the immensely happy expression that swept across her face.

“I love you so much,” Mycroft declared. “And I want to make you happy. I  _ need _ to make you happy. Without your happiness, my life would be truly a dull experience. Will you, if I may be so bold as to ask, marry...me?”

Anthea sobbed an enthusiastic reply. “Yes! Yes, of course, I’ll marry you!”  Then,  she kissed him like he was air and she couldn’t get enough of it. Mycroft parted his lips. The heat rose in her cheeks as her tongue touched his tongue, electric and delicious, then firmer, more passionate, seeking to quench the thirst they had for each other. 

* * *

Molly stood on her doorstep to say goodbye to Greg. “It was really nice meeting you,” she said politely. 

“Thank you for a lovely evening,” he replied, going in for a hug. The hug wasn’t very gentle and not as enjoyable as Molly was expecting. Luckily, it was soon over and done with.

“Have a good night,” she said faintly as she slowly closed the door. She saw him give a friendly nod before the door had fully closed. 

Molly had just removed her coat and hung it in her closet when she heard a knock at the door.

_ Who could that be,  _ she wondered.  _ It’s not Greg again, is it?  _

_ “ _ Did you forget something?” she asked as she opened the door. It wasn’t Greg.

It was Sherlock who stood before her. She felt nervous electricity radiating from him and surging into her body, a current of energy that made her go weak. 

“Yes, as a matter of a fact, I did,” he finally replied. 

“Oh...what did you forget?” Molly guarded herself with her arms crossed.

Sherlock gulped. “My heart,” he whispered.

“What?”

“You see, I...I left it with you that night after the gala, and...I wanted to know if you wanted...to keep it. Because it’s yours.” Sherlock’s deep voice shook as he spoke. His breathing labored as he gazed into her eyes, longing for her answer. 

His declaration flustered Molly. Warmth spread across her face as she looked into his pleading, wistful eyes. “Sherlock, I thought-”

“I texted you. Many times. And I called, too. I waited by my phone. It was like I was acting-”

“Like me,” finished Molly. He nodded. “When I kissed you, you didn’t seem to want to kiss me back.”

“I know,” he answered.

“A wise man once told me that I’m the rule. That if a man likes you, he’ll tell you. There are no exceptions-”

“But there are.” Sherlock interrupted her, his massive hands now cradling her face. “You...You’re my exception.” Gently, Sherlock brought her lips to his. His lips slowly and tenderly pressed into hers. Molly felt a flutter in her belly as his hands traced their way down her spine, finding a home at the small of her back. Soon, her arms wrapped around his neck. As Sherlock deepened the kiss, Molly felt like she melted to the floor. Their kiss was long and mind-numbing. Neither wanted it to stop. A fire that couldn't be extinguished. An electric current that had to keep flowing. A bee clinging to its cherry blossom, never letting go.

* * *

So, that’s the story. It’s sweet and sad, happy and uplifting. And all about finding happy endings.

Every film we watch, every novel we read  **implores** us to wait for it: The Third Act Twist, The Unexpected Love Declaration, The Exception to the Rule.

And sometimes, we get so focused on finding our happy endings, that we don’t know how to read the signs. How to distinguish between who’s genuine and who’s fake. Between who will stay and try to fix things and who will leave and give up.

Maybe the happy ending doesn’t include a wonderful guy. Maybe it’s you, on your own. Picking up your broken pieces and starting anew. 

  
Or maybe the happy ending is that through all the failings and broken hearts, all the blunders and follies, all the pain and embarrassment, you  **never** ever gave up hope...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!! This was a lot of fun to write.
> 
> Huge shout out to Mizjoely for being my beta. You are amazing!!


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